Show and Tell
by PengYn
Summary: A new year dawns in Dharmaville. "It seemed to him that anyone who had not yet attached themselves to a counterpart, was looking to get it on with Jim LaFleur." This my 4th installment for Days of Dharma featuring Sawyer/Juliet.


**A/N: 'Show and Tell' is a 1974 hit by Al Wilson. This story is now my 4th installment for Days of Dharma.**

James had to duck and dodge his way through the sea of celebration. He'd long since lost count the number of times a lithe and eager body had pressed up against him. It seemed to him that anyone who'd not yet attached themselves to a counterpart was looking to get it on with Jim La Fleur - no one wanted to see midnight alone and, if they could help it, the rest of the night. James had no intention of entertaining their drunken fantasies, not because his body had no interest, but because he knew better than to go stumbling off to bed with someone who – on any other day – you'd rather chew your arm off than screw. Aside from that, he hadn't drunk enough himself to find polka dots attractive – even if they _did_ belong to somebody's "best skirt". As he searched for someone – anyone – to talk to who would not in turn wrap their arms around his neck, he wondered when he'd become so duty-bound and practical. What did it matter if he didn't wake up alone? It was the '70s, nobody actually _cared_ if you didn't and nobody would judge you if you did.

He spotted Horace who was, undoubtedly the most sober person in the room and headed toward him. He had to move quickly to avoid wandering fingers.

"Evening Jim!" the older man grinned. "Happy New Year."

"And yourself." James replied.

"Having a good time?"

"Think I might have some unexplained bruises in the mornin', but other than that it's a good party you got here."

Horace's eyes twinkled when he laughed, his party hat slipping sideways. He'd figured their Southern security chief would not be left lonely tonight. "They work hard. They deserve to have a good time and let their hair down a little."

"The Mary-Sue with the polka dots is lettin' it down a _lot_." he returned the grin.

"Well I'm sure if you ask nicely, she might let you get a good look inside her house."

James shot him a look. Maybe Horace was less sober than he appeared. "Thanks but I ain't lookin'."

"Suit yourself." Horace's eyes searched the room. "You like stripes?"

James laughed. He knew when he was being teased. "I think my roommate would object to being woken up. She aint' the world's greatest mornin' person."

Horace nodded gravely. "That the only reason?"

James opened his mouth to respond only to find he had nothing to say. _There's a first_.

Horace patted him on the shoulder. "It's okay my friend, your secret's safe with me."

_Or it's restin' at the bottom of too many whiskies. _James thought.

"So where is Juliet this evening Jim? I'm sure I saw her earlier, but I guess I've lost track a little." Horace gestured at his near-empty glass.

"I ain't her keeper." James said, somewhat defensively.

Horace's eyebrows shot up into his hairline.

"Last I saw she'd snagged a bottle of wine and headed outside with Amy." He amended.

Horace nodded, a sheepish smile spreading across his face. "I like Amy." He said, although James was certain the man wasn't aware he'd said it.

A raucous chorus surged through the crowd when the music died and somebody's voice – James suspected Jerry's although it was difficult to tell through the slurs – came over a microphone. "It'th that time folkth! In thirty theconds we'll be in nineteen theveventy-five!" Shouts of drunken reverie applauded his speech. _Bet it took him an hour to think up that one._ James rolled his eyes. "Okay come on wifth me now," Jerry continued. "Ten! Nine! Eight!" The room took up the chant as they counted down to midnight. James found himself searching the room, looking for a familiar head of blonde hair. But if Juliet was in the crowd, he certainly couldn't see her. Next thing he knew he was being hugged by Horace and everybody else in the general vicinity as they all welcomed in a new year. The music flared up again, louder than it had been before, and James thought it time to make a discreet exit. As he made for the door, not nearly quick enough to dodge lipstick-smudged kisses, he noted Miles somewhere ahead of him heading out the door with Polka-Dot. "Son of a bitch." He grinned.

The night air greeted him with cool reprieve. He could smell ocean and grass, and thought nothing had ever smelled better. It made a welcome change from the sweat and bad perfume from the room behind him. As he headed down the steps he saw Amy walking, presumably toward her house with two glasses and two empty bottles, and waved his hand in greeting.

"Happy New Year." He smiled.

"Happy New Year, Jim." She smiled back.

"Off to bed?"

Amy nodded, somewhat sadly. This would be her first new year without her husband.

"You have a nice night then." He told her.

"Thank you." She gestured with the wine glasses. "Juliet's on the beach if you're, um, heading out that way."

"Thanks Amy."

"Good night." She said.

"Night." He replied, watching as she retreated into her house. James wondered idly when he'd started caring whether people got home safely or not.

***

He found her sitting on the rocks by herself, watching the waves break gently against the shore.

"Got room for one more?" he called.

She tilted her back to look at him. "Hey there." She smiled. Her eyes were a little glassy, but it could just as easily have been the moonlight rather than the liquor, the last time he'd seen her was in the rec-room and the sun had still been out.

"You okay there Sandra Dee?" he asked, sitting down next to her.

She nodded, a dopey grin on her face. "Yeah. Just a bit too much wine. I only really wanted a glass."

He smiled. "Amy okay?"

"She misses Paul. I don't think she was up for a mass celebration." She replied.

"Don't blame her. Losin' someone you love ain't easy. But losin' someone like _that_, hardest thing in the world."

She turned her head towards him. It was the first time she'd heard him mention his parents' death. Granted she already knew. She knew that his father had shot his mother before turning the gun on himself, knew that he'd been hiding under the bed at the time, but she wasn't sure if he'd ever really talked about it. She nodded as he looked back at her. He knew that she knew, and his eyes thanked her for saying nothing.

Instead she reached over and wiped the lipstick marks from his cheek. "You, uh, got a little something there." She smiled.

He suddenly felt very warm, whether from the memory of being manhandled or from her gentle touch he wasn't sure. He hoped the darkness was enough to conceal his embarrassment, not that much of anything got passed Juliet.

"Let's just say people got a little friendly." He said.

She laughed softly. "Well it's a very, um, liberal time."

"Probably lucky you weren't in there. I'm sure anyone tryin' to grab _your_ ass woulda lost a limb."

She grinned, somewhat shyly, before looking away.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing." She said.

He waited for whatever "nothing" was.

"I just… assumed… I wouldn't see you until sometime tomorrow."

"It is tomorrow." He replied, faintly surprised that he knew she'd continue.

"You know what I mean." She said.

He cocked his head, smiling in amusement. "I ain't _that_ far gone."

"And if you were?" she paused, allowing her words to sink in. "Um… that was slightly inappropriate there. Sorry." She hid her blunder beneath a sheepish smile.

He waved it off. "I've woken up with enough regrets in my life. Don't need to add anymore just yet."

"I suppose waking up with a stranger on New Years day is the ultimate cliché." She acknowledged.

He studied her. "Talkin' from experience there?"

And there it was. The look she was never quick enough to bury, but was swift enough to recover from.

"No I just – I'm not really a fan of New Years."

James watched as one of her knees started to bounce. Her fidgeting was a sure sign he'd touched a nerve, and if he'd been completely sober he'd have left it alone.

"What happened?" he asked.

"What happened when?" she replied.

"On New Years."

She looked away. "Why does something have to have _happened_ for me to hate it?"

"Because it's written all over your face. Or it was, before you hid it behind one of your walls."

She glared at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He shrugged and raised his arms up. "Darlin' I'm a conman, I used to read people for a livin'."

She blinked a couple of times. "Funny that. And yet you failed to see that Kate would probably _never_ make up her mind."

She winced, slightly, at her own words.

"Well if _that's_ the way you wanna play it." James stood, seemingly done with this conversation. "For the record, I knew. I just _chose_ to ignore it."

Juliet pressed her fingers to her temple, she hadn't meant to sound so harsh. She pushed herself to her feet, wobbling slightly on her weaker ankle. It hadn't been long since it was freed from its cast and although she was walking normally again, she'd been sitting on it for hours.

"I wasn't always so… direct." She called to his retreating form. James stopped and turned to face her, but said nothing.

"I…" she brushed away the strand of a hair that fell onto her face. "I guess a better word for me would be something close to a doormat."

"I'm s'posed to believe that?" he asked, not taking his eyes off hers.

"You were a conman who didn't care, and now you're a conman that _does_. Is it really so hard to believe that _I_ was a completely different person before I came to this Island?" She leaned against one of the big boulders before continuing. "James, you wouldn't recognize the woman I was."

He knew from her tone and her defeated expression that she was speaking the truth, and with it, his anger subsided. He walked over to where she stood, sitting back down on one of the smaller boulders. He figured she'd talk more if he could show her he really wanted to listen.

"So what happened?" he asked softly.

"I worked for a bio-research company before Richard recruited me to help with the Island's fertility problems. Rachel had trouble getting pregnant because of her cancer, and I immersed myself in my work in order to help her. One New Year's Eve my colleagues convinced me to come and join the office party. We were all pretty much geeks," she laughed. "None of us really liked to stray very far from the lab. And it was fun, for a while at least… until I discovered my husband in the copy room with his pants down around his ankles and his secretary beneath him."

James stared at her. He was expecting a lot of things but a cheating husband wasn't one of them, probably because he couldn't understand why _anyone _would trade her for somebody else. He wanted to say something, but he had no idea where to begin. He settled, to his own surprise, by putting a hand on her arm. "I'm sorry."

Juliet cast a small smile to show she'd heard him. "I'm pretty sure what he was doing up against the copier was an abuse of company property. But he owned the company, so he could afford it." She laughed bitterly.

James closed his fingers round her tiny wrist and pulled her down to where he sat. She didn't protest, and leaned into his shoulder a little. Her entire body moved as she sighed. James had wondered over the course of the last eight months, what anyone could have done to her to make her retreat _this far_ inside herself. She was a puzzle wrapped in a mystery hiding behind a pillar of strength. He found that in unraveling one layer, he found seven more, and it only made him all the more curious. He didn't think he'd ever met a more complex person.

"What did he say when he saw you?"

"He didn't." she replied. "But even if he had, I don't think he would have cared. Apparently it wasn't the first time, and I know it wasn't the last."

"I'm sorry." He repeated dumbly.

She looked at him. "You don't have to keep saying that y'know?"

"I don't… really know what else to say." He confessed. "Other than your husband was an ass an' where can I get my hands on him?"

"He's dead. But thank you." She smiled a little, touched by his indignation on her behalf.

"Sorry." He winced.

"Don't worry about it." Juliet bit her lip. "Y'know, I cried when he died. I didn't know how to live without _Edmund Burke_, which is funny considering the way he treated me when he was _alive_. I think he saw me more as his property, than his wife."

"You ever confront him, about the affairs?"

She nodded. "He didn't contest the divorce, on the condition that I continued to work for him. I guess he needed my brain more than he needed my companionship." She stood up, suddenly feeling the need to protect her vulnerability. She'd already said too much. "I was young, naïve and I didn't know any better."

She walked a little way from him and stared out at the ocean, one of her arms leaning on the big boulder for support. Taking deep breaths she tried to compose herself, the last thing she wanted was for the wine to take its toll and the tears to fall.

James respected her enough to give her the space. He sat there, feeling his own chest rise and fall, wondering why he had this sudden urge to shoot something. It took him a few minutes to realize that it was because he was angry. He felt as if someone had done him wrong and his instinct was to fight back. The night air had sobered him enough and his reasoning told him that _he_ was not the one who'd been wronged even though he might have _felt_ like he had.

Looking at her now, standing there with her back to him, her shoulders lifting slightly with each breath, he wondered when he'd crossed that line. Maybe it was familial, the kind of protective instinct you extend to members of your family when they're threatened. He wasn't sure, he'd never had a family. Something triggered in his memory and Juliet's words echoed back at him.

"_They're good people, and they've welcomed us into their lives, and they've given us all a home. I'm not searching for anything anymore, because for the first time in a very _very_ long time, I'm actually okay. I've actually found something. I have a life. I have friends that feel like family. I have you."_

She _was_ his family. Whether he wanted it or not, it didn't matter. Fact is he couldn't help that she was a part of his life, any more than she could help the fact that he was a part of hers. And he was okay with that. Whatever happened, _whenever_ it happened, they were in this together. He thought it was probably time he told her that.

Rising to his feet, he walked over to where she was standing. He reached out and took her hand in his. She glanced at him.

"Gimme a minute." He said with the hint of a smile on his lips.

She frowned, but waited for him.

"I never had a best friend." He began. "Not one who cared enough to get my back. An' I don't know what else there is, what _else_ you might've been through, an' I ain't gonna push. Not intentionally anyway."

She smiled, the movement causing a stray tear to catch in her eyelashes. "Well at least you're honest."

He grinned. "I just wanted you to know, I got _yours_."

Her lip trembled as she fought against the emotion, her head making little nodding movements. "Thank you." She managed. They stood in silence for a few seconds before she smiled and rolled her eyes. For two people who excelled in saying nothing, they'd just managed to cover an awful lot of ground, and she was suddenly very tired. She rested her head on his chest. She'd sworn to herself that she didn't want to get this close to another man on, or because of, this island, and it suddenly occurred to her that she wasn't doing a very good job following her own orders. She was comfortable where she was, and he was comfortable enough to let her be there.

"We can go now." She mumbled into his chest.

"You sure?" he asked.

She raised her head to look at him, and he wondered when exactly he'd put his hands on either side of her face. _Were _they_ always there?_ He had no idea. He was too distracted by her eyelashes to care.

Juliet nodded. "Mm hm. I'm done. Sorry for being such a girl."

"Darlin' you are a girl."

She was far too close, and he was far too mesmerized by the smile she gave him to fight for any kind of self control. He didn't want to take advantage of her intense vulnerability, and they'd both had too much alcohol to inject any sense of clarity to the moment. He wasn't drunk. Neither was she. But they both knew better than to fall for a cliché. The only thought he could summon was that the reason she hadn't moved was the same as his - she didn't want to.

"James." She whispered.

"Gimme a minute." He breathed.

He could feel her heartbeat - _or was it his?_ – pulsing rapidly. Her eyes were wide, but they didn't waver. He thought that any minute now she'd pull away and run, but she didn't. His days of needing a woman for the sake of it, were over, but he couldn't deny his curiosity. She wasn't like other women. She was different - in the same way that the smell and sound of a thunderstorm is different to ordinary rain. When it rains, you get wet, simple as that. But when it storms, the whole sky lights up and you understand what it means to be alive. And he _knew_ this storm was staring him down.

Her knees buckled under his gaze, and he knew he only had a second before her common sense – _or his?_ – kicked in. Still holding her face in his palms, his lips sought hers. He waited for her to shrug him off, and when she didn't he moved his hands down her arms and gently wrapped them round her waist. She responded by tilting her head upwards and placing her own arms around his neck, her fingers running through his hair before settling. He pulled her toward him, his hands pressing into the small of her back and she responded by parting her lips and inviting him in.

They were both past the point of consequences. All she could taste was him, and all he could feel was the way her body molded itself to his. Her fingers pushed into the back of his neck, gentle and yet urgent. His hands were in her hair trying to pull her closer, but having no room left to do so, all that resulted was an increase in pressure, in tongues exploring, and hungry lips charged by the intensity.

Eventually the need to breathe slowed their pace and with one last gentle kiss that almost belied their fervor, they broke apart. Both of them were flushed and breathless. For a long time, neither of them spoke. A sheepish grin spread across his features, and Juliet ran her hand across her face before eliciting one of her own.

"Um..." She said.

"I…" he started.

Embarrassed laughter followed.

"The wine."

"Too much of that damn beer."

They'd said it simultaneously.

Juliet was looking everywhere, _but_ at him.

"I shouldn't have –" he tried again.

"No it's okay, I probably shouldn't have let you… um…" she trailed off. _Damn it Juliet construct a sentence!_

Silence fell between them, swallowing words better left unsaid.

He pointed in the direction of the barracks. "You need me to give you a head start?"

She smiled gratefully, nodding her head a few times. She backed up a few steps before turning to go.

"Hey." He called after her.

She turned back to look at him, her expression unreadable.

"Happy New Year." He grinned.

"Happy New Year, James."

He watched her go, one half of him worried he'd just done something monumentally stupid, the other half still lost in honey-scented skin and warm lips.

He knew she'd let him write this off to New Years. He knew she wouldn't expect anything from him, just as he knew she wouldn't ask him for anything either. She would wake up tomorrow and still say "Good morning." She'd still move his dusty boots outside with a small exasperated sigh, and she would still walk through the house in her towel searching for the hair clip she'd forgotten to take with her into the bathroom. She'd do it, because she trusted him, knew that he needed the stability of a seemingly normal life as much as she did. Their friendship was more real than any other relationship he'd ever had. He knew by the way she sometimes stole the spoon out of his empty cereal bowl and stuck it into her cornflakes, because she was too lazy to walk to the kitchen, that she felt the same way. He didn't want to add to the cliché and say she made him a better man, but some days he was convinced that he was trying to prove to her that he _could_ be.

He remembered the day he'd been promoted to head of security, when the smile on her face and the pride in her eyes was all he needed to feel like he'd done a good thing. And he realized that perhaps being a better man was something he wanted too - for himself, for her, he didn't know. _But maybe that don't matter anymore._

***

James headed back to the house he shared with Juliet. He was careful to avoid the board on the porch that creaked when anyone stepped on it, and he made sure he didn't slam the front door behind him. He felt slightly ridiculous, a man of his size creeping down the passage like some courteous burglar, but the house was dark and silent and he didn't want to wake her if she'd only just dropped off to sleep.

Her bedroom door was still open, a silent metaphor for their relationship. Juliet was curled in a ball, fully dressed minus her shoes, and breathing evenly. The blanket curled around her ankles and just reached her shins, almost as if she hadn't had time to bring it up the rest of the way before sleep overtook her senses. He grinned and thought she'd whack him in _his_ shins if he ever mentioned how cute she looked when she slept.

He crept as quietly as he could to the side of her bed, and pulled the blanket up to cover her completely. Her eyelids fluttered as she registered the movement and a sleepy sigh escaped her lips.

"Shh." He whispered, touching a hand to her hair. "Go back to sleep."

He tucked the edge of the blanket underneath her before making his way back to the door.

"James?" A sleepy voice issued from behind him.

He paused at the door frame and resisted the urge to turn around. "Yeah?"

"I think I like New Years."

The urge won and he turned, only to find her asleep once more. He wasn't entirely sure if she'd ever been awake.

He smiled at her sleeping form. "Goodnight Juliet."

***


End file.
